Before I begin this review proper, I must confess there exist two factors that've always dumbfounded me regarding Super Mario Bros. 3, the NES game revered as the system's masterwork. Admittedly, one bears little on the game's quality in itself; mainly, the shock that its original Japanese release was a whole two years earlier in 1988 than its 1990 American release. Technically speaking, that's more so a year-and-a-half (Japan's October 23, 1988 to America's February 12, 1990 -- and that's to say nothing of Europe's August 29, 1991!), but the point is, I just think it's silly 1988 America was busy greeting a reassembled black sheep in Super Mario Bros. 2 while Japan was living it up with the Holy Grail of 8-Bit Gaming. As always with the medium, The Land of the Rising Sun really does have it good.
The other cause -- one immediately more relevant and, as evidenced by this Koji Kondo interview, has certainly confounded others -- is how I am never not baffled by the silent title screen. Anyone who's played the Super Mario All-Stars remake should certainly recall the jubilant ragtime remix of the classic Underwater Theme, perfectly accompanying the game's curtain-raising opening via choreography: the subdued drone introducing Mario and Luigi, the trumpeting eruption of delight greeting not only both the title and the theater's showers of enemies and power-ups, but our joy in playing one of the greatest 2D platformers ever crafted. A disorientation perhaps exclusive to those who played the SNES/GBA versions first (including yours truly), this aural absence unveils our first impressions of Super Mario Bros. 3 as a stunning retcon, its reduction to silent pantomime a bewildering relic.
And now, a story: there was, once upon a very brief time, I would've placed Super Mario Sunshine in My Top Five Video Games of All Time; No. 2, in fact, only behind Super Smash Bros. Melee. Call it the fervent hype of one little boy -- stumbling across a pre-release demo in New York City's Toys "R" Us remains one of my all-time favorite gaming memories -- but my bliss in Mario's tropical acrobatics couldn't be denied: be it bopping upon hapless NPCs and aimlessly hopping around the beaches and villages of Isle Delfino, hours upon hours were spent within torrid festiveness. Paradise was here, and it arrived in the anticipated thrill of a new Mario game.
Not many months later, however, a curious thing happened: the game slipped to No. 5, then No. 9, and then slipped off my Top Ten without a trace. It kept falling, falling, falling out of sight until its place within a Top 50 would be unfathomable. To say I grew a budding, resentful disappointment would be inaccurate, but the honeymoon period was certainly over, and the game's faults were too much to ignore.
And now, to reiterate gaming's most famous switcheroo: what we know as Super Mario Bros. 2 in Western territories is not the actual Super Mario Bros. 2, which was deemed too difficult and too similar for foreign audiences. The solution: take an unrelated platformer (Yume Kōjō: Doki Doki Panic, a Fuji TV collaboration that originally featured an Arabian cast), repackage it with Mario characters, get Shigeru Miyamoto and co. to polish up the gameplay, and voila -- you have gaming's greatest magic trick. It wouldn't be until five years later with the remake collection that was Super Mario All-Stars that rumors and urban legends whispered about Western audiences, with internet inertia finally dawning what would place among Nintendo's most historic fun facts.
In other words, this is why Mario and the gang are suddenly throwing vegetables at bad guys rather than stomping them. Without this knowledge, it becomes all too easy to label Super Mario Bros. 2 as one of the many infamous "black sheep sequel" so dreaded on NES -- sequels in the vein of Zelda II: Adventure of Link, Castlevania II: Simon's Quest or even the Japan-only Final Fantasy II, all which were being divisive experiments that messed with their predecessor's formulas a tad too much -- but even knowing that, is it really the game's fault it doesn't live up to the Super Mario name? Adding to the confusion is how despite the Japanese version being called "Super Mario USA," Nintendo has been all too quick to brush Super Mario Bros. 2 under the rug and not only inducting this localized version into series canon, but has since referred to this game as the realSuper Mario Bros. 2 (as recently as being heavily referenced in Super Mario 3D World, in fact).
A bit late posting this up, but here's something I wrote about Super Mario Odyssey's wondrous Photo Mode? Why did I use such a dreary-looking pic for the header? Only one way to find out!
A game review for Switch will also be up on Hey Poor Player today, so look forward to that, too.
Gaming before Super Mario Bros. was not exclusive to dark backdrops accompanied by blinding neon or an absence of jumping maneuvers, but they were certainly pervasive enough to define what we call the third generation of video games. Games had only begun to invent the likes of parallax scrolling and side-scrolling movement, but to one Shigeru Miyamoto, gaming began to settle a little too comfortably into dark screens and arena-based repetition.
While Nintendo was hardly exempt from these styles of games--look no further than the famous likes of Donkey Kong and Balloon Fight -- Miyamoto refused to be outdone by imitators encroaching upon what he envisioned as his pioneering work; that is, jumping games. His answer was to develop an ultimate swan song to the Japanese Famicom--about to be superseded by the Famicom Disk System-- by combining the philosophies behind Donkey Kong and Mario Bros. (jumping), Excitebike (side-scrolling), Balloon Fight (floating in the air; or in this case, the sea) and Devil World (control of a larger character).
What's ordinary and by-the-book today was set to be revolutionary in 1985: an open, side-scrolling game bursting with color and crossed land, air and sea. Us Americans probably wouldn't know it from the cover -- whereas the original Japanese box art (seen above) was illustrated by Miyamoto himself, the American release disguised its glorious setting via yet another black-themed package (its odd composition also became something of an in-joke: ever stop to think about how Mario's about to fall in lava?)
Perhaps it was for the best; I mean, who could've expected such an explosion of color with a cover like that? Even better, it merely frames how Super Mario Bros.'s innate design resonated immediately with the world at large. The presence of player empowerment and visual feedback is the very same design philosophy that illuminated proto-open world in The Legend of Zelda, or when 1996's Super Mario 64 stunned 2D veterans with the realization that, yes, you can climb that mountain in the distance.
Over thirty years later, Super Mario Bros. remains as much of a masterpiece. We've since seen its ideas improved and expanded upon by the likes of Super Mario Bros. 3, World, and the New Super Mario Bros. series, but its innate sense of pick-up-and-play still enchants newcomers to this day. It's all about the jumping, really; whereas arcade heavy-hitters like Donkey Kong and Mario Bros. may feel clunky today, it's amazing how Super Mario Bros. runs as fluid as it did back in 1985.
Look no further than level 1-1--the famous standard for all opening levels in gaming-- to see why. It's evident from the very first question block you see that Super Mario Bros. is a game that rewards via jumping: you will hit that block, because it's gold and shiny and everything attractive. Out pops a coin; you want more, but a stray Goomba is honing in on you. Jump over that guy (or stomp it flat!) and pop another block; out comes not a coin, but a mushroom, which is meticulously designed to reach you....yet it grants not death, but growth. You can jump higher, and can take one additional hit before reverting back to Small Mario.
Unlike the army of platforming clones that would follow after its release, jumping in Mario feels sublime not because it follows preordained path or is at the mercy of wonky physics, but because it takes everything from acceleration, momentum and weight into account. Jumping after holding the dash button, for example, will send Mario flying into an soaring arc. Tapping the jump button lightly will make him hop an inch. Observant players recognize a necessary balance: you know you won't succeed without the big jump, but you shouldn't use it all the time lest you careless fall into a bottomless pit.
Because the controls feel so perfect, experimentation is inevitable. The player's habit of jumping everywhere may unearth a hidden 1-Up Mushroom. Landing on a Koopa Troopa's shell bowls over enemies. Careful precision and timing with dashing/jumping will land Mario on the flagpole goalpost's very top (and, with very careful consideration to the timer, lead to bonus fireworks!). All of are varying difficulty, but Nintendo's subtle education for what's actually essential is vital. Just look at the block formations below: the first leads leads nowhere so players learn to dash and jump over its ilk, which prepares them for its fatal twin.
This isn't even getting into the other mechanics introduced via the first level: the Warp Pipe, which leads to underground coin-filled hideaways and let you skip half the level; the Fire Flower, which again transforms Mario, but this time into a fireball-spewing visage of orange; the Starman, which renders Mario invincible and demolishes any enemy that dares touch him (not to the mention introducing the famous samba theme).
And underneath all that lies the ultimate question: how do I utilize all this? Will diving underground and skipping half the level just to nab coins really lead to the most points? Will grabbing the Starman interfere with my Koopa Shell-kickin' skills? How do I trigger the fireworks at the end of the level via flagpole? Why not ignore the Super Mushroom and play through the entire level as Small Mario for a challenge? Or, heck, why not the whole game?
Now, such freedom in play and player choice are hardly unique to Super Mario Bros. itself: the likes of open-world games, fighters, shooters, horror survival, life simulators, and strategy games all possesses their unique traits of flexibility and the like. But how many of those are accessible as just running and jumping? What renders Super Mario Bros. so special is its accessibility, and that the first level is this inviting is no coincidence: it was one of the very last made in development, constructed with all the knowledge obtained throughout development.
It's a seamless transition from discovery to play, as echoed in 1-2 (the first Underground Level), yet another captivating case of flexibility via the importance of brick-breaking. We already learned that bricks were breakable via Super Mario's jumps, but now here's a level essentially composed of bricks hiding coins, 1-Up Mushrooms, and even shortcuts leading to the Warp Zone. But moderation is key here; smashing bricks may be fun, but with the timer ticking down, you shouldn't dawdle for long.
And from there it becomes more of a subtle tutorial. Floating, interconnected platforms that respond to your weight are initially placed over towering cliffs, but eventually suspend over no landing points. Castles are armed with spinning firebars that gradually grow in size, complete with perilous mazes. Bullet Bill Cannons are visually introduced before they learn to fire off-screen, the first Hammer Bros. strategically hop up and down from floating brick blocks (could that be used to our advantage?), and yes, it's possible to knock out Lakitu from his cloud the moment he's spotted.
Note how many of the above involve enemies. What's beautiful about Super Mario Bros.'s cast of minions is how they aren't merely obstacles to be dodged, but tools for success. Koopa Troopas and their shells are a favorite secret weapon, but how about stomping on Goombas propelling us to greater heights? Could other enemies be used the same way? And who's to say Bowser's invulnerable to fireballs?
How we tackle all this is up to us. Miyamoto once described as Super Mario Bros. eventually becoming "our game": as muscle memory settles in, we opt for the best routes available for us. We
grow the courage to try new things; accordingly, the game becomes comfortable enough to throw new surprises once the shock of the first level wears off, and so it becomes an engaging learning process for the game's duration.
Easy to learn, hard to master: the creed of difficulty that defines the best of games. As it's an 80's game, it should come as no surprise that Super Mario Bros. is rather tough. The game's experimentation and discovery arises as a response to the game's difficulty, which can't be surmounted easily. There's the underwater levels with bastard Bloopers, for instance, and whereas there is a way to rid of them and their Cheep Cheep cohorts (a certain power-up, perhaps?), that you're at the mercy of swimming physics not only restricts your movement options, but renders Mario all the more vulnerable to losing his only means of defense. Hammer Bros. and the castle mazes are also beatable nightmares, yet they, too, will likely give players a thrashing before a solid, formulated strategy is developed.
But that's okay, because Koji Kondo's music keeps us coming back for more. Perhaps the first famous songs in gaming, Kondo was conscious of the limited sound options for the Famicom/NES--only five channels!--and labored over songs that wouldn't irritate the player. Such songs would not be action-packed techno, but instead colorful songs that would encourage the player and never grow old.
And what gaming song is more immortal than the Main Theme (less commonly known as the Ground Theme)? Infectious from the very first 8-bit note, the Latin-based theme conveys an instinctive rhythm that can't be anything but an explosion of exuberant, light-hearted activity. That it never wracks on our nerves is vital: we're driven to action immediately after Game Over.
But why exactly is that? Perhaps the secret lies in how Kondo actually based the song on Mario's movement. Through the rhythm of player control, the music is the ultimate mastermind behind our enjoyment. From the moment Super Mario Bros. starts, it becomes a song that sets into your bones.
In contrast, the Underground Theme doesn't inspire the same sense of wonder, but its short repetition and comparatively muted nature belies an instant earworm. (That, and, well, it's not as if a dreary underground is supposed to sound all that lively, anyway) While future iterations would install percussion-filled back-beats and the like, the original steady beat hollowed by silent intervals is somehow just as fun to hum along as its jolly counterparts.
Jolly as in the lovely Underwater Theme above. A wondrous waltz that, while perhaps betraying the treacherous waters which it accompanies, frame Mario's underwater movement as if echoing an actual dance. It too channels its Ground Theme counterpart in how they instill that very same player-moving rhythm.
All this grants it an all-too vital identity: that everything is fun. Obviously, this is not to say that previous arcade/video game efforts weren't such, Super Mario Bros. ups the ante by having "fun" be the theme of everything in it. Even putting the controls and gameplay aside, the colors and setting are fun to watch and absorb. The scenario of two plumbers rescuing a princess and her entourage of mushroom-capped retainers from evil turtles is as delightful as it is bizarre. The music is meticulously crafted to keep us engaged and hum along.
There's a reason why Super Mario Bros. saved the industry from the market
crash: it's a game about inviting people. There's no barriers: only a prevailing sense of "I can do it, too," that can be applied any which way you want. Yes, it's challenging, but it possesses a power that makes you want to try one more time. That
it would introduce the world to the denizens and world of the Mushroom
Kingdom is only secondary to its revolution of bringing people back into the world
of gaming.
Even now, I still feel bound to my own direction of playing it. I only grab the first Starman if I time the first Koopa Shell kick just right. The secret coins and 1-Ups in the first underground level are never missed. I never bother with the Warp Zones, choosing to instead gradually accumulate all the coins and 1-Ups coming my way. I still roar in exhilaration as I plow through my favorite level: 2-3, where Mario dashes across a series of bridges while avoiding leaping Cheep Cheeps.
I've only beaten Super Mario Bros. twice in my lifetime, but in all the countless attempts I've made to do so, I've more or less tackled it the same exact way. Perhaps it's time for a change? Even now, when I skip by it on the NES Classic Mini menu, I think to myself, "maybe I can." If only I had the time, I say, but I still hear it calling.
Like its NES counterpart The Legend of Zelda, that I can still find new ways to play more than thirty years after release is nothing less than sheer wizardry. What makes Super Mario Bros. gaming's most well-known masterpiece is not merely for what it defined, not merely because it revived the industry: it's because even after this time, we can still approach it and go, "I can do that."
Super Mario 3D World is a game that should, by all means, be considered a masterpiece in my eyes. It's a labor of love, joy and good ol' fashioned game design that follows off the heels of its 3DS predecessor. Having thoroughly enjoyed Super Mario 3D Land, common sense should entail I'd love its sequel just as much.
And why shouldn't I? It's propped up by a live big band score,which is undoubtedly the funnest Nintendo soundtrack since Rhythm Heaven first visited our American shores. It's polished to oblivion, with secret coins, mushrooms and Luigi sprites hidden everywhere from the most unsuspecting of bushes to the tiniest of bonus stages. The warm, fuzzy nostalgia of Super Mario World aesthetics returns and is just as soft as you remember, with the familiar clean artstyle popping up everywhere in the form of Miiverse stickers and familiar cast members roaming the landscape (the Chargin' Chuck football guys!).
And it sheds the spotlight on cats. Cats! My status as a hardcore cat lover is beset by how all three of my cats treat me like I'm the Anti-Christ, dashing away the moment my lumbering presence enters their personal space and daring only to stare at me from the dark reaches of the stairtop (that, and I forbid myself to watch cat videos on YouTube in fear I'll waste hours watching Scottish Fold kittens). That Mario and Co. appealed to my rejected heart by dressing up in cat costumes and meowing up a storm is the best medicine I've received yet, and I dearly wish for the Cat Suit's appearance in more games.
Super Mario 3D World holds the highestMetacritic score of any game released this console generation. It's the first 3D Mario with full-blown multiplayer, complete with Princess Peach and Toad as playable characters. Nintendo fans far and wide have gleefully proclaimed it's the funnest game they've played in decades; not only that, but to many, 3D World represents Mario's true transition of the 2D formula into 3D. And I, the biggest Nintendo nerd I know, have spent the past year and a half coming to terms with the fact that I'm not in love with it. Let there be no miscommunication here: Super Mario 3D World is quality. It plays great and oozes personality and charm in everything it does, all the result of love being poured into every line of code. And how my heart aches that I don't appreciate all that as much as I should. As should soon be evident, it's a game I still wrestle my feelings with, as while there are certainly elements of it that I love, I can't fall in love with the package as a whole. I've often wondered if the problem lies within my own high expectations for 3D Mario,a series that essentially created, defined and revolutionized 3D platforming (and gaming, in general) over the span of five previous games. Whereas Mario 64 laid the foundation and the Galaxy series crafted such imaginative heights, 3D World is mainly concerned with just having fun (and one other factor, but we'll get into that shortly).
Not that there's anything wrong with that by itself, but such a goal immediately places 3D World at odds with the Wii U's GamePad controller, a device that Nintendo completely failed to prove its worth. Much like every Wii U title that isn't Nintendo Land, 3D World establishes, at best, periphery involvement with touch-screen control and the like. When considering the heights reached in design and control from 64, Galaxy and even Sunshine, that a potential new avenue of 3D gameplay was discarded in favor of designing a HD sequel to a handheld game remains a poignant disappointment.
However, like how not every Wii game needed motion control, not every Wii U game should be decried for not having touch controls, so despite the franchise's prestige, it wouldn't be entirely fair to single out 3D World for that mistake.But alas, it's within that very mistake that 3D World's biggest flaw is made apparent, one that renders it inferior to even its own predecessor.
It wouldn't be wrong to claim Super Mario 3D World is the culmination of the seeds first sprung in the Galaxy series,
where Mario's fantastical adventures in space were guided along in a
more linear fashion. While they were still designed around the
star-collecting missions from Mario 64 and Sunshine, their more open level design was tossed in consideration of those lost in three-dimensions (that the first two New Super Mario Bros. titles, which revived the 2D gameplay of old, sold significantly more than any 3D Mario title only seemed to prove Nintendo's point). The result: 3D Land's further distillation into a pure platforming experience (one
could even perceive that the "3D" portion of the title was a rebranding
of this particular Mario genre)
Like 3D Land before it, 3D World emphasizes the nostalgic bare-context of the 2D Mario games of yore. We spot this quality in its speck of a plot, bare minimum usage of text, the timer that inexplicably kills your character, and, as seen above, the flagpole signalling the end of every level. Alone, these aren't problems, but they do contribute to 3D World's biggest flaw: in it's rush to streamline 3D gameplay via 2D tropes, the game forgets to innovate and instead produces a homogenized product.
"Homogenized" as in it borrows too much from 2D Mario, I mean. This isn't to say 3D tropes we've seen before aren't present (as seen with how it unlocks progression via collecting Green Stars), nor am I saying it doesn't possess any new ideas, but then why do I grow so tired of it, then? That 3D World is a sequel to a handheld game to streamline 3D Mario gameplay means it has to juggle between retaining and building upon its tropes within an HD context all the while pointlessly reviving elements from 2D Mario, which naturally presents some problems.
Take the level design, for example. You could argue Galaxy and 3D Land of being homogenized as well, yet they're careful enough to frame their ambitions within their respective contexts. 3D Land is particularly interesting in how the level design is built around the hardware, with levels that go down, down, down or up, up, up appearing all the more imposing and inviting on a tiny handheld screen (when factoring in the 3D, the affect is all the more powerful). It's new, it's fresh, it's uncharted waters for our portly plumber.
And yet note how 3D World borrows some of these levels wholesale without a speck of difference. As expected of a sequel, you may say, but the levels that go up, up, up or present a Zelda-inspired top-down perspective simply don't possess the same magic on an HD level. Yes, the former plays well into the wall-climbing antics of the Cat Suit, but that we've already done this before adds a dull sense of familiarity within the first world.
It's no surprise then that the best levels are the ones built around Mario's new toys. The cloning Double Cherry, in particular, is the game's one true stroke of imagination and presents an unparalleled sense of precision and wonder everywhere it appears. Losing one of your clones to enemy fire or a mistimed jump is a common risk, and it takes some skill to, say, carefully navigate a block slide that, according to their color-coded design, disappear and reappear to the music beat. Something we've already done before, mind you, but points for difficulty.
There are other gadgets for Mario and Co. to fool around with, be it potted Piranha Plants to gobble up foes with and an oversized comfy Ice Skate to ride around in. But as expected, they're sparingly used so as to not grow old. This would okay since the clever "clear" warp pipe idea commonly picks up the slack, but that it's shackled
in bringing back 3D Land tropes and coming up with new ideas brings me to my next point.
Look at how bright and colorful that is! Indeed, the colors in 3D World pop with such vividness and festivity that they're often propped by distant fireworks and the like (seriously, try bopping on the innocent Sprixie folk; they shed actual confetti). Here's some more delectable shots below.
Here's one with some modern effects. 3D World's character models and setpieces are polished to the point where reflect the shiny smoothness of toys and action figures, highlighted in the above rainy sequence. Note the rain dripping down the screen.
And then there's setpieces where the game just explodes with color. The hidden Golden Express is pure mouth-watering gold (complete with the aforementioned fireworks to highlight the game's status as a hidden level), wherea lava levels alternate between molten-hot red and delicious, tantalizing blue (often accompanied by a certain music track showcased just a ways down).
Anyone who's played 3D Land should recognize how most of the examples provided above aren't present in the handheld title. What isn't shown are not-so-new levels that while necessary within the sequel context, don't bring much new on their own. For every exciting idea found in train levels (Cat bullet bills!) and
Japanese bath houses, you shouldn't expect to see them more than once or twice. Yes, it does a gorgeous job of bringing 3D Land level setpieces into HD, but we've seen these ghost houses
before, we've traversed these
dessert-themed landscapes before, we've crossed these poisonous swamps before,
we've ridden on a sea creature down
perilous rivers before. Are they framed in new contexts? Sure, but
chances are they've probably
originated from earlier Mario adventures (hello, flip switches).
Bosses are also disproportionate in imagination. On the highest end of the spectrum lies the above Motley Bossblob; of course, that it'd use the Double Cherry as the fight's basis guarantees it's success, but look at how inventive it is! The flashy fleshiness of his giant form! The choices of either gunning for his fleeing vulnerable form or hopping on his scattered blobs to reduce his size!
...then you have this Bowser boss, where he rides a sexy giant car to lob bombs at Mario. It's host to the slowest, most boring boss fight in the game in that you have to kick back the bombs while Bowser just chugs along in the car. Within games featuring conflict, cars are generally used to run over people; as this would prove problematic in Mario, it has no option but just to sit there looking pretty. Any other platform could've not only sufficed in hosting Bowser, but to build upon it for a more exciting fight.
World themes, too, face disproportion as like 3D Land, 3D World generally places levels wherever it feels like. This wasn't a problem in 3D Land since most, if not all, of world themes weren't so explicit, but this isn't the case in 3D World. We have explicit takes on ice worlds, deserts, and skies, yet 3D World's sense of progression is totally absent barring the necessary castle level.
Just take a look at the game's biggest thematic folly: World Bowser. Just look at this opening! It's a Bowser-themed carnival hosted by the King of Koopas himself. What an awesome idea! And hey, the first level gets it right: you're infiltrating the carnival via the towers in the outskirts complete with orchestra music! And what follows up is...
A desert slide and a dessert level. Wha?
Progressing through the carnival only brings more disappointment: 3D World introduces circus levels as it's most common recurring trope, yet not a single one of these is in sight! In fact, a good chunk of that amazing shit you see in the opening shot aren't used at all. Instead of being granted rollercoasters, we're treated to the same ol' level tropes that only vaguely relate to evil circus theme.
"What's the big deal," you may ask. It's what I've been arguing all along: the game is far too comfortable with borrowing 2D Mario's sense of bare context. While Mario games shouldn't be bloated with story and dialogue (see Sunshine), that 3D World largely uses familiar world tropes as only crutch as opposed to building upon them (or, y'know, expanding on it's original themes) is a disappointment. The circus does not build upon itself, nor the sky world, or even the ice world. You know there's a problem when a) Super Mario World and even the later NES Mario games excel at this and b) I'm questioning context in a series that's the very definition of "suspension of disbelief". As it is now, 3D World in it's entirety comes across as some sort of gaudy fever dream.
You could say "Well, the desert slide is still a great piece of game design", and so it is. To deny that 3D World isn't designed well is heresy, but that it restricts itself to 2D Mario tropes is what I take issue with. What place do entire levels based around the "race against the clock"
concept belong in a 3D platformer, particularly if they're insanely short? Why bother with quick n' dirty enemy blockades? Why include a giant open area in Sprawling Savannah when the ever-present timer naturally deters exploration? Alone, these are nitpicks, but that they keep building and building only serve to prove the game's homogenized nature. That they're included only for the sake of pandering to the 2D titles associates it far too closely with the games in question, and so we lose uniqueness.
So does this mean 3D World is a complete disappointment? Well, not exactly. Yes, 3D World
comes up short as an inventive, cohesive title, but that to deny it's
status as game designed around providing the player with as many fun scenarios as possible would be, well, rather ungrateful for one and would also undersell how well-designed its stages are. I can't say I agree with how they're fully framed, but these are still Mario levels through and through.
Take the above tribute to Super Mario Kart, for instance. That it takes place in the ice world makes no sense, but the brief time we're granted with it captures Mario Kart brilliantly thanks to the pervasive placement of Boost Pads. That it's combined with bouncy mushroom pads to regain momentum and slides ripped straight out of the Playskool playsets from your youth only seals the deal.
Meanwhile, Sunshine Seaside is absolutely the best beach level in the game due to how involved it is. Echoing some of the collection missions in earlier 3D Mario games, your character of choice has to nab five key coins hidden across the coast. Be it one of the many goodies hidden inside the giant sand statues or breaking up a Chargin' Chuck huddle, there's no stone left unturned. Once complete, you're rewarded with an amazing Plessie ride. Note what's quite possibly 3D World's greatest easter egg: riding around inside Koopa shells. How I'd love to endlessly surf across the stage without the impending ticking of that pesky timer.
And no one could possibly hate the adventures of Captain Toad! These fun breathers from the main adventure take the form of isometric puzzles where the world's most adorable treasure hunter has to hunt down five green stars. It's the one area of the game where the GamePad is put to good use, as the gyroscope is utilized as the camera to help the player navigate and decipher these puzzles. These actually do grow in difficulty and even complexity as the game progresses, and I was always delighted to partake in them.
And once again, my love for the Cat Suit must be elaborated. Say what will you about the actual adventure, but the new suit is undeniably the funnest the Mario gang's had in years. Everything from how the characters prance along to the exact movement of a cat, how they scratch frantically before futilely sliding down walls (leaving loooong claw marks), let out a celebratory meow upon completing a course (or in the case of Toad, the cute little "myew! of a kitten), or even how the developers just added a sneaking maneuver (complete with it's own pounce attack) for no reason other than to be cute just highlights how much fun they had in creating it. Also, Cat Goombas. And Cat Bullet Bills. And Cat Bo...nah, I'll let you find that one out for yourself.
I can't help but resist spoiling one little surprise though. One day I asked myself, "what would happen if I climbed up a clear pipe with Cat Mario?" The picturesque shot above is the result. It's not possible with every clear pipe, of course, and it doesn't even qualify as a shortcut, but it's one of the very few instances of "create your own fun" that 3D World allows. In fact, if you try this in the very first level, you may find a tiny secret hinting the developer knew about this all along.
In that sense, it's best to enjoy 3D World as a "turn your brain off" sorta deal. It might not blow your mind and it's certainly not Mario at his most ambitious, but during the entire time I've wrestled with my feelings over this game, I always ask myself if that really matters. So long as you don't expect anything from 3D World, it works. Maybe not entirely in a way I'd want it to, but even with it's missteps it's still fun and exciting to play.
What can really ease this process is the score. My god, the score. Truth be told, I am growing a little tired of the newer Mario themes borrowing Super Mario Bros. 3's motifs again and again, so I've instead decided to kick off by sharing the game's best boss theme. 3D World apes Big Band music, and Hisstocrat is where that hits its apex. An explosion of drums, trumpets and synth all contribute to the flurry and chaos of that particular boss battle.
While Mahito Yokota takes up the bulk of the soundtrack, veteran Koji Kondo picks up the slack with his new take on the customary Athletic theme (known as Chain Link Charge). As opposed to the typical high-strung energy found in those themes, Chain Link Charge goes for a slower, jazzier tone that I'd imagine wouldn't be too out-of-place in downtown New York. It's certainly the most grounded Athletic, a unique direction that I'd love to see continued in future Mario games.
But let us not downplay the efforts of Mr. Yokota, who's more than proven himself as a master game musician at this point. Fort Fire Bros. presents some of the finest Nintendo flute work in some time, presenting an exotic air alongside the foreboding beat. It works wonders within any of the lava levels it accompanies, but comes across as particularly chilling whenever it's around the shiny new blue ones.
Of course, my favorite has to be the one I've discussed before: Double Cherry Pass utilizes a pair of violins so bouncy and alive that it perfectly taps into that animated Mario zen, rendering any level it accompanies the manifestation of pure joy. That it accompanies the best level in the game (of the same name) is no coincidence, as it heightens the wondrous discovery of the wonderful Double Cherries.
Maybe, for me, it represents a song of forgiveness. I know that Super Mario 3D World is not perfect, and I know I will continue to wrestle with my feelings over it for some time. In an era where Nintendo had to prove the worth of their shiny new GamePad, that it chooses to overly restrict itself by 2D tropes is undeniably disappointing not matter how well it plays.
But whenever I hear this song, I can channel that elusive reverie that I, myself, have been chasing for so long. This may or may not have to do with the fact that the song plays in the level where I can have up to five Cat Marios dance in tune to the music, but that it compels me to forget that and simply do that despite the impending tick-tock of a timer is no small feat.
Perhaps one day, I could simply forget the game's flaws and just play it? In a time where Nintendo is no longer a stranger to HD and downplays wacky gadgets, that may be possible, but that fear of homogenization is a tad too strong now.
Regardless, the game plays well, looks well, sounds well, and, well, manages to make me smile. It may not be my favorite Mario game, but that last factor is a hallmark quality of Mario through and through. And I guess I should be grateful for that. Meow.
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Sorry for the delay, folks! Got too caught up in polishing this before I was satisfied with it. Was I too indecisive? Please let me know!
